Breakpoint

A once-popular song by the band Switchfoot declared, "We were meant to live for so much more but we lost ourselves." In the closing line of his remake of the song "Hurt" (which, by the way, was way better than the original version), Johnny Cash lamented that the one thing he'd do differently, if he could live life over, was "keep himself—I would find a way." Most people, no matter their worldview, resonate with this kind of thinking about life. It points to something the Bible claims about how God made us, that we all have some innate knowledge of God. We think about life in ultimate categories and in terms of moral expectations, and we seek purpose. The problem, of course, is that because we are marred by sin, so is our pursuit of the truth about who we are and what life is all about. In Christ, our relationships are reconciled, not only with God but also with ourselves and, of course, others too. The freedom, joy, and beauty that result when relationships are re-ordered in Christ is something we are to proclaim to the wider world. Often, however, we struggle to communicate the truth about Christ and life across worldview and cultural lines. In fact, the further adrift a culture is from reality, the more that reality sounds like make-believe. Up seems like down, and down seems like up. It is easy to get the impression that all of our efforts to present truth to others goes nowhere. In his recent book, Mark Mittelberg tackles the challenge and our calling to communicate faith in this cultural moment. Contagious Faith teaches believers to communicate to a world looking for better answers to life's ultimate questions. According to Mittelberg, a big obstacle Christians must overcome is to first actually believe that our faith is worth sharing: I'm reminded of times in my life when I caught something that I couldn't resist and didn't really want to. Contagious isn't always a bad thing. … It describes something irresistible... What if instead of quietly clinging to our relationship with Christ and succumbing to the idea that faith should be private, we realized that faith is for sharing? That Jesus came not just for me and you, but to be the Savior of the world? While it's easy to feel intimidated by the thought of sharing Jesus with others, Mark's approach emphasizes the different gifts and skills present within the body of Christ. He describes five "contagious faith styles" we can learn to practice. Those with the Friendship-Building Style are more like Matthew, the former tax collector-turned-disciple, who held a party in his house to introduce Jesus to his former co-workers. Friends are more likely to listen to friends. Or perhaps you're more of the Selfless-Serving Style like Tabitha, who is described in Acts 9. She was a kind of first-century Mother Teresa, used by God to point people to Him. The selfless-serving approach is particularly powerful in reaching those who are sometimes jaded toward God and the Church. Most of us should be able to employ the Story-Sharing Style, to share our experience with Christ and point others to Him. Think of the blind man described in John 9, who simply talked about his own life. "Though I was blind, now I see," he said. Mittelberg's own approach is what he calls the Reason-Giving Style. Paul demonstrates this, as described in Acts 17, when he describes God to a bunch of philosophers in Athens. Though we hear that people are no longer interested in reasons for the Christian faith, they are—not just why Christianity is true but why it matters, and why the Gospel is good. They want to know not only what Christians believe, but how Christianity makes sense of the world. A final approach is the Truth-Telling Style. We're all called to share the truth with others, but some have a God-given strength in doing that. Think of Peter, as described in Acts 2, speaking to the crowd about who Jesus is and how He fulfills Old Testament promises. The Gospel is a message. The old adage, often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, "Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words," is kind of silly. As Ed Stetzer often says, that's kind of like saying "feed the hungry at all times and when necessary use food." Mark Mittelberg's book is a great tool for learning and planning to share the message of Christ with the world. The message is one that people need, and the mission field is right out the front door. Let's be the kind of Christians with Contagious Faith.

Babies are people, not things. For the Colson Center, I'm John Stonestreet with the Point. In a recent interview with Today, an actress revealed she had paid a surrogate to carry twin boys for her because to be pregnant herself would have jeopardized her career. Often, arguments for surrogacy paint pictures of childless couples yearning to be parents. Even that sad situation doesn't justify taking a baby from the body that bore him. But the real stories of surrogacy often look more like this one: the wealthy paying underprivileged women to bear their babies so as to not interfere with what they want. At least this actress was honest: She paid a surrogate because she was "terrified of putting my life on hold for two-plus years." Even aside from surrogacy's inherent exploitation of women and babies, this kind of story raises an important question, "What exactly does our culture think parenting is? Parenting involves laying down our lives for our children—for a whole lot of years. Children are full human beings, with their own inherent rights and dignity, including the right to their mom and dad.

Matt Walsh's new documentary, What is A Woman? is built on a very simple premise: Ask the academics, pediatricians, and politicians who promote trans ideology to define their terms.

John and Maria discuss the 50th anniversary of the break-in at Watergate. Although Watergate marks the decline of American trust in political institutions— something we're seeing in the January 6 hearings, John points out that Watergate's best legacy was the redemption of Chuck Colson. After Maria shares an inspirational story on Mary Slessor, a missionary in Nigeria, they continue their conversation from last week on why uncarefully parsing first-order and second-order doctrines can be risky. They end by talking about our God-shaped hole for meaning to the point that even an elephant recently had to be declared not a person.

Earlier this month, Women's March president Rachel Carmona declared that "For the women of this country, this will be a summer of rage. We will be ungovernable … until the right to an abortion is codified into law." Those aren't empty words. Shortly after the Roe v. Wade draft opinion was leaked, at least five crisis pregnancy resource centers were vandalized across the country. On May 8, a Molotov cocktail was thrown through a Wisconsin pro-life group's headquarters, and the words "If abortions aren't safe then you aren't either," scrawled on the side of the building. In response, Students for Life of America announced a different strategy: a "Summer of Service." "We will have a renewed and reenergized dedication to serving as sidewalk advocates, volunteers at crisis pregnancy centers, fundraisers for pro-life financial help efforts, babysitters for childcare centers that serve mothers in need, and more," the group writes. To learn more and to get involved, check out the Students for Life's website. Apparently, this summer will matter. I'm thankful for a pro-life organization committed to overcoming evil with good, and rage with service.

Fifty years ago today, on June 17, 1972, operatives from President Nixon's re-election campaign broke into Democratic Party headquarters at the Watergate Hotel. Were it not for a night guard who noticed that a garage door was taped open not once but twice, the most notorious political scandal in American history may not have been. But he did notice. Before it was over, an American president was forced to resign, and the standard was set by which all other scandals would henceforth be compared. In "honor" of this dark anniversary, Starz TV has produced a miniseries recounting the events. There are many reasons I cannot recommend Gaslit, despite the fact that it has a first-rate cast, including Julia Roberts and Sean Penn and Martha and John Mitchell, and the unexpected choice of comedian Patton Oswalt as Chuck Colson. I must say Oswalt pulls off the look, especially the hair and glasses famously. What he doesn't pull off is the voice or the order of events, and Chuck's remarkable conversion is left completely left out. Because of Watergate, the suffix -gate is now added to every government scandal, but that's still the least of its legacies. The colorful cast of characters—the Mitchells, John Dean, G. Gordon Liddy (who is portrayed as an absolute crazy man in the Gaslit series), and others—were part of a story that marked the beginning of what is now a long history of growing institutional distrust in America. The timing and progression of the January 6 hearings are a case in point. Even so, Watergate's most important and enduring legacy, at least according to God's economy, was one of redemption, not corruption. As Emily Colson, Chuck's daughter and Colson Center board member, who experienced Watergate as a teenager forced to watch her father maligned, mocked, and sent to prison, recently wrote to me about the anniversary of Watergate: "People have been asking if this is difficult for me. But it isn't. The events 50 years ago feel more like a beginning than an end. It was the turning point that brought my dad to his knees. And in that, God has brought so much good." Chuck Colson certainly earned his early reputation as Nixon's "hatchet man," a tough, ruthless, and loyal operative. Even if you agreed with his politics, he wasn't exactly known as a nice guy. Everything, however—and I mean everything—changed in the wake of Watergate. As his career and reputation crashed around him, Colson came to his darkest hour. In August of 1973, friend and former client Tom Phillips led him to Christ. Though still today, some snidely suggest that Chuck's conversion was a ploy to get out of prison, he gave his life to Christ even before he was considered a suspect in the Watergate investigation. And, of course, the conversion stuck throughout and after prison, and for decades of his life and ministry beyond. The year after his release from prison, Chuck went back, and he kept going back, over and over and over, through the work of the ministry he founded to bring the Gospel to prisoners and their families. Today, Prison Fellowship operates in every state and many other nations besides, striving to rehabilitate the incarcerated, support their families, and bring about prison reform. Later, Chuck would turn his attention, focusing on the calling of the Church to engage and restore culture,by embracing the fullness of a Christian worldview and courageously stand for truth. He founded Breakpoint, this commentary, to help Christians make sense of cultural events, and a program called Centurions—which has been renamed Colson Fellows—in order to equip Christians to go into their communities, standing for Christ, and bring about restoration. Millions have been blessed in the wake of Chuck's conversion. His story is like that of C.S. Lewis, Harriett Tubman, and so many others. It's a story of what God can actually do through a "Life Redeemed," a life fully and wholly redeemed. In fact, here's how Chuck described it, in his own words: "The truth that is uppermost in my mind today is that God isn't finished. As long as we're alive, He's at work in our lives. We can live lives of obedience in any field because God providentially arranges the circumstances of our lives to achieve His objectives. And that leads to the greatest joy I've found in life. As I look back on my life, it's not having been to Buckingham Palace to receive the Templeton Prize, or getting honorary degrees, or writing books. The greatest joy is to see how God has used my life to touch the lives of others, people hurting and in need. It's been a long time since the dark days of Watergate. I'm still astounded that God would take someone who was infamous in the Watergate scandal, soon to be a convicted felon, and take him into His family and then order his steps in the way He has with me." Fifty years after Watergate, headlines are still telling of government corruption and political abuse. Among the lessons we can learn from Watergate is that God is never stymied: He's never frustrated in His purpose. Who knows whether 50 years from now, we'll be thanking Him for another life, a different life, but one changed like Chuck's was, even in the midst of cultural chaos. May it be so.

Recently, Pizza Hut, as part of their "Book It!" reading program, highlighted books that promote LGBTQ ideology to children. For example, Big Wig is a book about cross- dressing aimed explicitly at a Pre-K through 3rd-grade audience. The "Book It!" website describes the book as a "wonderful read-aloud (that) celebrates the universal childhood experience of dressing up…. acknowledging that sometimes dressing differently from what might be expected is how we become our truest and best selves." There was a time when businesses found it wiser to remain largely worldview neutral. Now, given the pressure of outside watchdog groups, the tyranny of social media, and what may be called the "true believers" that dominate so many HR departments, Companies, businesses advance ideas about good and evil, the nature of human beings, and the right way to organize society. The rise in aggressive LGBTQ propaganda through business has been a key to the movement's dominance of culture. Pushing back will require two things. First, Christians called to corporate America who reject a privatized faith. Second, Christian consumers willing to connect their convictions with their wallets.

For much of history, people have marked deaths and marriages with religious ceremonies and sacraments. In a time of rapidly declining religiosity, some are now looking to alternative spiritual authorities to give meaning to their most important moments. Spiritual authorities like, say, Mickey Mouse. Recently, a Reddit post by a newlywed couple went viral after they asked whether it was impolite to spend their entire catering budget on an appearance by Mickey and Minnie Mouse. "My fiancée and I are huge Disney fans," wrote the 28-year-old bride, "…we travel to Disney World as much as we can throughout the year. Disney is such an important part not only to us, but also our marriage." The bride and groom chose to pay for a 30-minute appearance from performers dressed as the iconic characters rather than buy food for their wedding guests. Not surprisingly, some in attendance took umbrage, as did people online who read the post, calling the couple childish and selfish. A professor of religious studies at Lehigh University, however, defended the couple and urged her Twitter followers to "stop pathologizing Disney adults." She explained: "Many of the Disney fans I have observed in person and online find immense meaning in the parks. People don't just marry at Disney. They mourn lost relatives at Disney. They go to Disney to celebrate surviving cancer. They go there for one last trip before they die. Religion is a way of making meaning in the world through stories and rituals. It's about a network of relationships with the human and non-human…. It's about making homes and confronting suffering…. All of this happens at Disney." The professor is correct that some people view Disney and its theme parks in religious terms. Not long ago, reports emerged that Disney was secretly working to stop guests from scattering the ashes of their deceased loved ones at their parks. Apparently, urns of human remains are so often emptied, employees have code words to warn of that kind of cleanup. The fact that some now look to cartoon characters and amusement parks to bless and sanctify their lives signals how spiritually impoverished and hungry their lives have become. Of course, Disney is just one of many religious alternatives on offer in a culture like ours. We could easily question the amount of money spent on sports or travel or distractions of various kinds. People who look to the state or the screen or to sex for meaning and purpose are just as lost as those who look to Disney for it. There's also the matter of how religion is understood in a secular society. If, as the professor wrote, "Religion is a way of making meaning in the world through stories and rituals," then Disney fits the description. But this assumes that religious faith is subjective, based in fiction—not reality, a product of the imagination—not reason. If religion is merely a way of making meaning in an otherwise meaningless universe, then Mickey Mouse will work as well as Moses. This is how secularists define religion and, tragically, how some participants of traditional religions live out faith. However, a social club gathered around nice fables no one is really convinced of is a hobby, not a faith. Christians insist that worship is directed to the real God who stepped into real history, died on a real cross, and really left behind an empty tomb. As the Apostle Peter put it, "We did not follow cleverly devised stories when we told you about the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ in power, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty." Faith isn't a way of inventing meaning where there is none. Nor is it built on any other patronizing definition that could include Cinderella as easily as Christ. The Gospel isn't a "cleverly devised story." It is the truth of all of reality, the truth that gives meaning to our lives, our marriages, and, yes, our deaths. The fact that people in an increasingly irreligious culture look to the Magic Kingdom as a replacement for God only reinforces the kind of creatures we really are: "incurably religious" ones, as John Calvin put it. We seek because we were made that way by the One we truly seek. And, what we seek is real, not make-believe. Building lives around cartoons is disturbing and sad. But the problem isn't people who love fantasy too much. It's people who have nothing better to love, and a culture that tells them they may just as well wish upon a star as call upon the Lord.

It's an interesting time for travel. The price of flights notwithstanding, many are opting for what social media has dubbed "revenge travel": the chance to get out and make up for time lost during the pandemic. Which brings up the question: What is travel good for? A popular answer is that travel is necessary to experience la dolce vita, or "the sweet life." Writing to the Atlantic, one reader described his year overseas: "I went to Italy burned out from American corporate pressures and returned with better boundaries for work/life and an intentionally slower pace of doing things." But travel is no cure for all that ails us. Ralph Waldo Emerson famously called travel "a fool's paradise," the mistaken belief that internal restlessness can be escaped by a mere change of scenery. "Our first journeys," he wrote, "discover to us the indifference of places." Travel is a way to connect with people and expand our knowledge of the world. But, as the writer of Ecclesiastes warns, living for life's next high cannot eliminate life's unsettling questions, nor does can it take us to the deeper Source of life's passing joys.

Earlier this year, a very secular publication came to an unexpected conclusion. Vox ran a series of articles under the title "America's Struggle for Forgiveness,." In it, they wrote, "Grace might be the holiest, most precious concept of all in this conversation about right and wrong, penance and reform—but it's the one that almost never gets discussed." Even in the most morally exhausted cultural moments, there are signs of life. Made in God's image, with eternity in our hearts, we're desperate for answers to our deepest questions and for purpose to help us make sense of our lives. We search elsewhere but, ultimately, only the Gospel can offer what we need. At the same time, at least when it comes to forgiveness, Christians are struggling as well. In any context, because it always involves fallen human beings, forgiveness isn't easy. In this cultural moment, so deeply divided at such fundamental levels and with so much at stake in the issues, it can seem impossible. How can we reconcile the idea of forgiveness in a world overrun by evil? How can we be examples of forgiveness, both forgiving and seeking forgiveness, to a world that so desperately needs to see it? First, we need to be clear on what forgiveness is and isn't. The way Jesus' command to "love your enemies" is often used in order to silence Christians who hold unpopular views completely misses the point. Too often, we get the impression that we need to apologize not merely for failing to live out Christian ethics, but for holding Christian ethics, as if Christian witness is compromised by Christian morality. Second, Christians must embrace the idea of forgiveness. There's a fear in many corners of the church, particular those engaged in standing for righteousness in this cultural moment, that concepts like "forgiveness," "gentleness," or "compassion" are signs of weakness. Certainly, many Christians have been gutted of courage at the exact moment Christian courage is so badly needed. But asking for or offering forgiveness is not necessarily a sign of weakness. In fact, in a culture devoid of it, Christians have something essential to offer people, families, institutions, and cultures. Plus, we don't have a choice. A gracious posture is not an option for Christian. In Romans 12, Paul instructs Christians to "Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them." He also commands us to "Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good." Holding to truth and righteousness and being gracious to others are not mutually exclusive options. Both are required for Christ followers. We must not pretend people are somehow "doing good" when they are not, or that evil ideologies that hurt the innocent are somehow anything less than evil. In Jesus' words, we will be "exclude[d]" and "revile[d]," and have our names "spurn[ed]" as "evil" for His sake, not because we've done anything wrong but because we've followed Him. As Jesus' teaching about church discipline and instructions to the disciples to "shake the dust of unbelieving towns off their feet" suggests, the goal of Christian witness can only be faithfulness. Whether or not are liked is of little importance. Which means, as Steve Cornell with The Gospel Coalition writes, forgiveness is different than "reconciliation." We can and must extend forgiveness, and we ought be agents of reconciliation. However, because reconciliation always involves someone else, it isn't merely up to us. When people actively pursue evil, boundaries are necessary. The real battlefield of forgiveness is not just external behavior. It involves the heart, which God sees with piercing clarity. It may involve asking for forgiveness, even from ideological opponents who are on the wrong side of a given issue. It will mean forgoing vengeance, even while seeking justice and extending love to those extending hate. In God's economy, this is not weakness. It is the a strength rooted in Christ who Himself proclaimed, "Father, forgive them." A wonderful example is Barronelle Stutzman, a co-recipient of this year's Wilberforce Award. For years, she's been the target of the state of Washington, misrepresented in the press, slandered and sued for refusing to custom design flowers for the same-sex wedding. Only last November, after nearly a decade, was her legal case finally settled. Through the whole, exhausting process, Barronelle extended nothing but kindness, even to the person behind her legal nightmare, longtime customer and friend Rob Ingersoll. "I did not turn down Rob," she wrote in 2016. "I turned down an event. And if Rob walked into my store today, I would hug him and I would serve him for another 10 years." That same gracious attitude only became more evident in the years since. Through it all, she steadfast refused to betray her faith while still showing gentle kindness toward those who oppose her. Anyone who knows Barronelle Stuzman would never confuse that posture with weakness. Rather, she's a living, breathing example that Christians can have both unrelenting conviction and a tender heart of forgiveness. We need not choose between them.